This house

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This house has been standing for some hundred years
Its big walls have been crossed by joy and by fear
I know that every room is full of ancient stories
Of birth and death, of shame and also of glory
But, now it’s my turn to show
That, I can be part of all
Through my heart and my work

Here I can discover everyday some more
About an ancient and so fascinating world
And I can see into every single stone
A message made of images and of words
Digging under the old floor
I reach the past in a blow
There is so much to learn

In this Land so ancient I was born 
And it will rot for sure my bones 
And in this house, I will build my nest 
To esc from the chaos and to find some rest 

Yes, my ancestors are looking at me 
They know that I need to believe 
That I’m protected when I stay here 
And I will be helped to dry my tears 

And while I discover in the old documents
some interesting stories and coincidence
There are the round pebbles under the next floor
and beams are made by elm or sometimes by oak
I am soaked into hope
while I tread on gutted floors
Is this the right weft to draw?

The toils will be faced through the will-power
until my mind is rapt in this way so utter
sometimes there will be bounty and mirth
among the oaks and the ash trees
but I guess some other times
the path will be upright
and I will need my forbearance  

In this Land so ancient I was born 
And it will rot for sure my bones 
And in this house, I will build my nest 
To esc from the chaos and to find some rest 

Yes, my ancestors are looking at me 
They know that I need to believe 
That I’m protected when I stay here 
And I will be helped to dry my tears

Non è venuto giorno

Non è venuto giorno:
solo rivoli di fumo
sulle strade incupite
e alfabeto di ghiaccio
mai decifrato.

Siamo ombre sospese
appese a un sole assente
marionette fradice
bisbigli delle Norne*.




* Nella mitologia norrena, le Norne - dall'antico Norreno "Norn" che significa "colei che bisbiglia un segreto” - sono le tre divinità che tessono l'arazzo del destino. La vita di ogni persona è un filo nel loro telaio e la sua lunghezza corrisponde alla lunghezza della vita dell'individuo.

When the winter howls to shoo the autumn

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In these late evenings
when the sky is grey but it's not so cold
After some praying
I push my thoughts away, put them on a boat

When it's evening and it's raining on the roof and my soul 
in these moments I remember all: the lovers, the friends and my hopes 
and there's a big graveyard for them all, and everyday someone else in the tombs 

Growing means also to stop to mull, to grizzle, to mutter and to frown 
I've to learn first of all to shrug, to heal the bruise on my heart 
Future shan't clad in, fear or love, it will hunch itself to take new forms 

In these late evenings
when the winter howls to shoo the autumn
I become a poacher
to kill the spiders on the spiderweb

When it's evening and it's raining on the roof and my soul 
in these moments I remember all: the lovers, the friends and my hopes 
and there is a big graveyard for them all, and everyday someone else in the tombs 

Growing means also to stop to mull, to grizzle, to mutter and to frown 
I've to learn first of all to shrug, to heal the bruise on my heart 
Future shan't clad in, fear or love, it will hunch itself to take new forms

Inipi *

Ho visto le stelle brillare
sulle pietre accese
firmamento ancestrale
proiettato sull'anima.

Ho respirato il fuoco
nell'acqua incandescente
fin dentro le viscere
a bruciare il buio.

* La cerimonia Inipi è la versione Sioux della capanna sudatoria o capanna della purificazione.

Come Cadmo

A stento tocca il sangue
questo sorriso frigido
sottile come la falce
dopo la mietitura
come il sole lebbroso
dei giorni di granito
semina di novembre.

Come Cadmo* ho seguito
i bisbigli dell'oracolo
tra boschi spinati
e serpi acuminate
ma senza trovare
la mia nuova terra
da fortificare.

* Cadmo è un personaggio della mitologia greca, figlio di Agenore, re di Tiro e di Telefassa, nonché fratello di Europa. È considerato il fondatore della città greca di Tebe.

Cloak

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The fog on the wood is the cloak of the seeds
I've prayed for three nights to stop to breath
the total loneliness of Samhain
has shown that my life is into the unease

Drenched into the cold I feel my hackles rise
while I wait in silence for the twilit light
the rustling trees announce a new time
while there is a quarrel between death and life

But remember that after the fog comes always a gleam of sun 
you can't believe under the hood that the light is not far 
and I can see that hint before the cry 
but first of then you have to try 

I feel in these days almost totally unmanned
while I know I should be instead hell-bent
I still have to learn to be supple as sand
to change my shape without changing myself

But remember that after the fog comes always a gleam of sun 
you can't believe under the hood that the light is not far 
and I can see that hint before crying 
but first of then you have to try 

2nd November 2019

The saddest Samhain of all

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There is no light
And it’s cold
Outside and inside my soul

And there is no life
It is death
The only name of my world

It is the saddest Samhain of all

It is so lonely 
It so lonely 
This Samhain 

I am a little man 
Without any hand 
To take care of him 

I must admit
I have lost
My plans are out, my choices wrong

I can’t believe
It’s no more
The time of Faith in some God

It is the saddest Samhain of all

It is so lonely 
It so lonely 
This Samhain 

There is no glory 
And no good story 
To say something 

I am a little man 
Without any hand 
To take care of him 

31st October - 1st November